January 2008

January 30, 2008

Lovely. About 3 dozen peanut butter biscuits. Enough to feed a small army. Baked by the 13 year old.

However, before they had a chance to cool and be put away, all but three Mysteriously Disappeared.

Closer inspection revealed dna evidence.

The owner of the Incriminating White Hair was discovered directly beneath the Crime Scene; floppy, cross-eyed and sporting a tummy ache that prevented him from moving or looking anything but Completely Tragic for the next 12 hours.

Sympathy was restricted to keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't require hospitalisation.

The greedy bollocks.

ps. I should probably add, in his defense, that thieving isn't part of his MO. Mym had given him a biscuit when she passed them round, as we usually do. It must have made quite an impression on him.

January 19, 2008

Is what a yoga teacher will say to you, precisely at the moment when you really are going to pop an eyeball from exertion.

But the intensive is over, and not only am I standing, I'm also a little lighter, a little stronger, and quite possibly even a little taller. And very, very tired, mostly from the concentration required, for 7 hours, every day, just to keep up. I plan to make myself a tshirt, with I survived a yoga intensive with Peter Scott emblazoned across the front. I reckon I've earned it.

It was wonderful. My back is in (an ugly process, but it's done), and no further injuries. Of course, I've never once injured myself under Peter's supervision. Only when practising alone, or with a teacher who didn't know what they were doing. With Peter, you invariably become straighter, like it or not. They don't call him The Dude for nuthin'. DAMN, he's good.

In other news, the reindeer got up to mischief while I was away. For the life of me, I don't know how this happened. There's been nobody here all week.